


Compromise

by GEGabriels



Series: G.E.Gabriels' Les Mis Sickfics [18]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU sort of Marius stays with the Les Amis instead of leaving because he was defeated, And makes everyone's lives even more agonizing, Canon Era, Combeferre & Courfeyrac & Enjolras Friendship (Les Misérables), Fluff, Gen, Joly & Bossuet & Grantaire Being Cute Friends, M/M, Multi, Roommates, Sickfic, Sort Of, Trans Enjolras, Trans Male Character, cause why not, eventual angst, for once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GEGabriels/pseuds/GEGabriels
Summary: In which an ill Enjolras and a homeless Grantaire end up sharing living quarters in Canon Era. Hilarity, conflict, and fluff are bound to happen. (And probably angst, because the author can't restrain himself)
Relationships: Combeferre & Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Combeferre & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Enjolras & Les Amis de l'ABC, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire & Joly & Bossuet Laigle, Joly & Bossuet Laigle & Musichetta
Series: G.E.Gabriels' Les Mis Sickfics [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896514
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. In which Courfeyrac has an idea

The staircase in front of him was daunting. Never mind the fact that Enjolras climbed it, and the ones above it, nearly every day. On that particular day, his legs felt like giving way underneath him if he so much as took another step. And the staircase would require quite a few steps. Briefly, he regretted having parted ways with Combeferre five or so minutes before. Combeferre could have helped him up the stairs. But Combeferre had schoolwork to attend to, and Enjolras would never dream of holding his friend up over a little bit of tiredness. His legs ached, as he pulled himself up the first step. Maybe a lot of tiredness.

He had woken up that morning, and instantly regretted it, as he felt even more exhausted than when he had fallen asleep the previous night, well past midnight. Enjolras had bravely pushed on, though Combeferre had immediately picked up on the fact that something was wrong after Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac met up for lunch. Enjolras had waved him off, while Courfeyrac had remained oblivious to the fact that anything was amiss, and had simply chattered on about something Enjolras found unimportant. The exhaustion hadn't really set in until after Enjolras had finished all of his classes from the day, however, and Enjolras had set home earlier than usual, hoping to catch a quick nap. He had run into Joly, though, who was babbling about some sort of disease. While Enjolras loved Joly dearly, of course, he could be rather annoying at times. After he had gotten away from Joly, he had been caught by Combeferre, who was interested in discussing some aspect of the revolution, that Enjolras, much to his dismay, just hadn't been able to focus on. Combeferre had finally said farewell to him at the door to his apartment building, before Enjolras had come across the dreaded stairs, which he was halfway through now. Begrudgingly, he forced his way up the other half, before stopping in front of his apartment door, and opening it.

"I'm home," he said tiredly. There was no one to respond to him, of course, and his large quarters felt rather lonely, and cold. His parents hadn't let him live with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, as he had desired to. They had instead bought him the fanciest place they could find, which Enjolras despised. He never knew what to do with the space, so his apartment had mainly turned into a meeting place for the Les Amis. He had sold most of the furniture in his spaces, and used the money to feed the poor who wandered the street just outside his window. The only section of the apartment that looked like anyone lived in it was his bedroom ,which was a mess of papers, a well-worn bed in the center of the room, a bookshelf and an overflowing desk beside it. Enjolras knew it was still light outside, and knew there was work to be done, as there was always work to be done, but he collapsed onto the bed anyways, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Enjolras almost never fell asleep quickly, as his mind was always active, the gears inside always turning. Memories of him as a teenager laying face-down in bed, while Courfeyrac hummed to him, and Combeferre carded his hand through Enjolras' hair, were still vivid in Enjolras' mind. Back when Enjolras could still sleep with his two best friends, he had slept easier, as they both came up with innovative ways for him to sleep. At the present time, though, Enjolras often found himself lying awake in bed, thinking about the cause. That particular night, however, the second his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep.

The reason why became glaringly apparent, as he opened his eyes late the next morning, to a pounding headache, and a rather gross amount of snot on his pillow. He sniffled, tasting mucus on the end of his tongue. Lovely. His cheeks were burning, but the rest of him felt chilled. Enjolras stood up, praying that he wasn't ill, and stumbled over to his window, to check if it had been left open while he slept. Joly claimed that an open window at night was good for one's health, but Enjolras always found himself waking with a blocked nose when he did so. No. The window was closed. Enjolras leaned against the wall, not bothering to bind, like he always did every morning, instead flopping back down onto his bed, chest first, because he honestly didn't care. Enjolras closed his eyes for about three minutes, before opening them again, climbing out of bed, his legs shaking. He always got shaky, when ill, which annoyed him. Combeferre had always used his shaking legs as a sign though, that something was off. Enjolras longed for Combeferre's gentle touch, but never knew how to properly ask for it. He hadn't felt his own mother's hands against his skin in a long, long while, and though he felt weak for wanting it, he still did. Snot oozed down his face, and Enjolras disgustedly wiped it away, feeling plain miserable, and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, to try and warm himself up. He coughed into his fist a few times, before dropping against the bed, defeated. He drifted off into a fevered sleep, his eyes opening again an hour later, as he felt a sudden thirst. He scanned the room, before deciding that getting water was too much effort, and falling back asleep again, his usually organized, now scattered mind not giving him any hint of the time. He awoke the next time to another profusely running nose, and quite a bit of noise from the other end of his door, before it was opened. Perhaps thieves were invading his space, he had no clue, though somewhere in his mind he knew staying alive was important, if only for the cause. Enjolras blinked, as Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and... Grantaire filed into the room, all three staring at him, for a second. Enjolras didn't blame them. How strange it must be for Grantaire to see his usually radiant Apollo reduced to a sniffling, feverish mess. And Combeferre and Courfeyrac were probably cherishing how stupid he looked, saving it to tease him about later.

"Enjolras, are you alright?" Combeferre tentatively asked, and there was an ice-cold hand being pressed to Enjolras' forehead before he could object. Combeferre frowned, brushing a few of Enjolras's loose blonde curls out of his face, "he's burning up." Courfeyrac nodded carefully, crouching down so that his brown eyes directly met Enjolras' blue,

"Are you ill, E?" He gently asked. Courfeyrac was the type of person who could go from reckless to gentle in the span of a second. Enjolras gave them both a heavy shrug, Combeferre's frown deepening at his lack of defensiveness. Enjolras glanced tiredly over at Grantaire,

"Why is he here?" Courfeyrac and Combeferre both exchanged glances, and Enjolras narrowed his eyes. He hated when they had nonverbal conversations with each other. He also hated the fact that they were sharing living spaces, and he wasn't, as childish as that sounded. He didn't like being left out. He coughed into his fist, a loud, barking sound, and Combeferre winced.

"God, Enjolras," he said, shaking his head with a smile, "how do you end up in these states?" Enjolras gave him a pathetic sniffle in response, keenly aware of Grantaire staring at him.

"Why is he here?" Enjolras repeated, Combeferre sighing, and Courfeyrac jumping in to answer,

"Well, Ferre and I were waiting for you before class started, and you didn't show up. Ferre was convinced you had been attacked, but I wasn't worried! Then R came racing around the corner, all like, worried and stuff, because you had seemed off yesterday apparently, and he couldn't find you to stalk you, so…" Courfeyrac said in one breath, Enjolras blinking,

"...Oh." Combeferre nodded,

"At least you're resting," he gently said, Enjolras giving him a tired shrug in response, sitting up in bed, gripping onto the white fabric beneath his hands, pretending he was still a toddler, clutching his mother's dress. Though his father had never liked him, Enjolras's mother had at least tolerated him. Enjolras never regretted leaving his old home, but sometimes, he had a tiny longing for his mother, that he thought was rather embarrassing. He was a revolutionary leader. Not some Marius. He couldn't afford to be so soft. Which reminded him… Enjolras pulled the covers over his head, trying to hide himself from Grantaire's sight. Grantaire was the last person he wanted to see him like this, for so many reasons. The motion seemed to concern Combeferre, who Enjolras could see through a hole in the blanket, even more, and Enjolras soon, much to his displeasure, found his bed being stripped of all it's blankets. Enjolras curled in on himself, freezing without the added warmth. Combeferre's hand was once again pressed to his forehead, and Enjolras heard Combeferre yelling to Grantaire, who quickly hurried out the door, though Enjolras couldn't pick up exactly what they were yelling about.

"What -" Enjolras said, laying a hand across his head, and closing his eyes.

"I've just sent Grantaire out to track down Joly. Joly should have something to help with this fever." Combeferre laid his head down on Enjolras' chest, "you're rather congested," he worriedly said, Enjolras pushing him away,

"I will be fine." Combeferre didn't grace that with a response, and Courfeyrac crawled onto Enjolras bed, holding Enjolras in his arms. Combeferre wasn't exactly one for physical affection, and neither was Enjolras, but Courfeyrac craved it, and Combeferre and Enjolras indulged him when they were feeling up to it. "I will be fine," Enjolras repeated, turning his head to cough, "...Though perhaps I'll skip classes today." Combeferre gave him an approving nod,

"Sensible." Enjolras coughed again, Courfeyrac rubbing his back,

"Jesus christ, E." Enjolras ignored him, speaking up again,

"We will have the meeting tonight, though, the revolution waits for no one," he said, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes, but not commenting, thankfully, as Enjolras wasn't sure if he had the energy to argue back. They stayed this way for twenty or so minutes, Combeferre pulling a book off of Enjolras's shelf, immersing himself in it. Grantaire and Joly hurried in, Joly looking quite nervous,

"Oh, Enjolras, I thought you seemed a bit pale the other day -" Joly began, Enjolras cutting him off before he could begin a long-winded rant,

"I'm always pale." Joly ignored him, sitting on the side of the bed, Courfeyrac reluctantly letting go of Enjolras, leaving him to Joly's mercies. Enjolras blinked up at Joly, Joly blinking back at him, blue eyes meeting black. Enjolras coughed, and Joly gasped,

"That sounds horrible!" He fretted, Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac all sighing at the same time. Joly cleared his throat, "um, right, sorry," he said, placing the back of his hand on Enjolras' forehead, and sliding the hand down to Enjolras' scarlet cheeks, "impressive," Joly said, all though he sounded very disapproving. Joly's hands made their way down to Enjolras' neck, and Joly's frowned deepened, "quite a bit of swelling here…" Enjolras shut his eyes, basically done with the examination, but Joly wasn't finished, "any rash?" Enjolras shook his head,

"None that I know of," he said hoarsely, Joly nodding, pausing, and most likely checking a few billion things off of the list he'd most certaining compiled in his head. Grantaire stood in the corner of the room, awkwardly watching.

"...Windows," Enjolras whispered, Combeferre picking up on this, and using blankets to cover the windows, Enjolras letting out a sigh of relief, as his head pounded mercilessly.

"Any stomach issues?" Joly asked, Enjolras quietly disclosing this information to Joly, Joly nodding, and standing up,

"Alright. I'm not technically a real doctor, so you may want a second opinion… I'd definitely recommend, it, you see -"

"Joly." Grantaire said from the corner, in a warning tone. Joly gulped,

"Um, yes, anyways… I suspect Influenza. It's been going around," Joly said, "there have been outbreaks around the city." Combeferre gave a dark chuckle from the corner,

"Believe me, I know." Courfeyrac leaned his head against Enjolras' bedboard, looking deep in thought, so deep, in fact, that he didn't even notice his beloved hat falling off of his head, as he made a sudden movement, Enjolras passing it up to him.

"Contagious?" Joly pursed his lips,

"I believe so," Combeferre nodded,

"Meeting?" Joly frowned, laying his elbows down on the bed, as he had taken to sitting on the floor.

"I think that'll be alright," he said, Enjolras' tense posture relaxing, "cough away from others, though." Enjolras nodded, reaching down from his bed to try and pull the blankets back up. Combeferre pushed him down with one hand, fetching the blankets with his other, and draping them across Enjolras's tiny figure. "Alright, well, i'll be on my way, come Grantaire," Joly said, Grantaire nodding, and quickly leaving the room with Joly, Courfeyrac sprawling out in front of Enjolras on the bed, and Combeferre sitting on the chair for the desk,

"You don't bind in bed, correct?" He asked, Enjolras nodding,

"Mhm." He drifted off to sleep, content with feeling Courfeyrac's body against his own. He was rudely awoken five hours later, to a shake from Combeferre.

"Enjolras," he said, a whine squeaking out of Enjolras's throat, much to his mortification. "We have the meeting." Enjolras forced himself to his feet, glad that he was in formal clothes already, no matter how messy they were from sleep. Combeferre looked slightly hesitant about having the meeting in general, and Enjolras attempted to reassure him he was fine, by walking steadily over to his desk chair, and grabbing the coat that was draped over it, shrugging it on, and struggling to button it with his shaking fingers, glaring at Combeferre as his friend tried to jump in and help. Combeferre got the message, and backed off. Enjolras was notorious for his piercing stare, which could even unnerve Combeferre. Though Combeferre had a few scary expressions of his own, usually directed at Courfeyrac and Grantaire when both were in rowdy moods. Which was quite frequently. Enjolras, after slipping on his shoes, turned his head away to sneeze, coughing a few times, before looking back at Combeferre,

"Ready to go," he hoarsely declared. Combeferre nodded, and Enjolras stumbled across his room, opening the door at the front, and sighing, as he looked down three large staircases. Combeferre moved in front of him, walking down carefully, so that he could catch Enjolras if he fell, which Enjolras was very determined not to do. Being sick was embarrassing enough, but he'd never live down falling down the stairs, especially with Courfeyrac there to witness it. Courfeyrac never let anything slip, which Enjolras loathed. The climb down the stairs was tedious, and Enjolras let out a sigh of relief as his feet touched the floor again, and he turned his head to cough once more, breathing heavily from the effort.

"Off we go!" Courfeyrac declared, stepping outside with a bounce in his step, as always, his hat flying off his head due to a breeze. Combeferre quickly caught the hat, passing it back to a grinning Courfeyrac.

"It's rather chilly," Combeferre said, removing his own coat while walking, and draping it over Enjolras's shoulders. Enjolras glared at him, Combeferre simply smiling in response.

"Only until the Musain." Combeferre nodded,

"Only until the Musain," he agreed, with a roll of his eyes. Combeferre gave Enjolras a concerned look, and Enjolras ignored him, still shivering, even under his coat, and Combeferre's much larger one. His trembling wasn't coming from the freezing winter air, he knew, however. It was instead his body's response to the fever burning through him. He didn't care either way. Enjolras rubbed a hand under his nose, sniffling, as they approached the Musain ten minutes later, Courfeyrac almost losing his hat twice in the time period. Enjolras returned Combeferre's jacket to the man in question, wiping his hand under his nose again, inhaling deeply, and walking after Courfeyrac, who pushed open the front door. They made their way through a few rooms, before Courfeyrac, once again, opened the door to the back room. There was no one there, of course, empty chairs at empty tables. That was because the Triumvirate, as Grantaire had taken to calling the three, always came before everyone else, to set up. There wasn't really much to set up for, to be honest, but it was always helpful to go through notes with each other. Enjolras stomach growled, and he blushed. He hadn't eaten anything the entire day. Or drinken anything either. Courfeyrac picked up on this, and skipped away to god knows where. Combeferre sat down next to Enjolras, and the two men began talking together in quiet voices, about politics, and the general state of things. Enjolras rubbed a hand over his face, Combeferre's eyes sliding from the paper they were looking at, to him.

"Does your head ache?" He asked, Enjolras sighing, and regretting that, as he coughed into his fist a few times,

"Very much," he croakingly admitted. Combeferre nodded, glancing outside the window, Enjolras doing the same. The sun was starting to go down, so the light wouldn't be a bother to him much longer, "do you want me to cover the windows?" Enjolras shook his head, swallowing back mucus, and looking back down at the paper,

"Where'd Courfeyrac run off to?" As if answering his question, Courfeyrac rocketed into the room, pressing a kiss to Enjolras' cheek, and setting a piece of bread down in front of him.

"I know you're hungry!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, "so I got you something!" Enjolras gave him a short nod,

"...Thank you." All three of them worked in silence, for twenty or so minutes, before the door opened again, and Joly and Bossuet came into the room, Courfeyrac jumping to his feet,

"Eyyyyy!" Bossuet grinned,

"Hello, Courf," he said, and Enjolras noticed that he was limping, but didn't comment on it. Bossuet was always injured in one way or another. Joly made his way over to Enjolras, Enjolras shrinking back in his chair, Joly simply leaning forward, and giving him a judgemental look.

"How are you, Enjolras?" He asked, Enjolras laying his elbow down on the table, even though his father had always smacked him for doing so, and leaning his cheek into his hand, his hand burning as it was met with fiery heat.

"I'm… Alright," Enjolras said, Joly giving him a skeptical look. Bossuet made his way to Joly's side, raising an eyebrow as he caught sight of Enjolras,

"God," he said, Enjolras frowning,

"What?" Bossuet cleared his throat, giving Enjolras a nervous smile, and rubbing a hand over his bald head,

"I knew you were ill, of course, Joly told me, but you look… Very ill." Enjolras sighed, as Joly pressed something into his hand,

"Handkerchief. I knew you'd leave home without one, and your nose is running down to your mouth." Enjolras sighed, gratefully taking it, and wiping at his nose, focusing down at the paper in front of him. A large hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked up, to see Bossuet smiling down at him,

"I can come by to your place later with some food," he said, "Musichetta's a very good cook." Enjolras nodded,

"Thank you, that would be appreciated." Bossuet and Joly went to talk with Courfeyrac, who was at a table in the center of the room, leaving Enjolras and Combeferre to talk quietly by themselves once more. The door swung open once more, and Bahorel and Feuilly filed into the room, Bahorel giving Enjolras a wide-eyed look,

"...Well, you're not wearing your bindings," he commented, sitting down at a table, Feuilly smacking him upside the head,

"Honestly!" Bahorel gave Feuilly a confused look,

"What?!" Feuilly gave him a disapproving one in turn,

"...Why is the first thing you notice about him the state of his… Chest…" Enjolras banged his head against the table, wanting to die of embarrassment. Combeferre looked up from his side,

"We've had discussions about invalidating those of us who are… Female bodied," he said carefully. Bahorel rolled his eyes,

"Sorry, E." Enjolras smiled,

"It's alright," he said. Marius twirled into the room, not seeming to notice that he was in a room full of people,

"I saw a bird today," he whispered, awestruck. Courfeyrac facepalmed,

"Very… Very nice, Marius," he said, Bossuet rolling his eyes, leaning against the wall, and falling,

"Don't encourage him," he said from the ground. Joly tugged Bossuet up to his feet, and Jehan slowly made his way into the room, clutching a few papers to his chest, and freezing as he saw Enjolras.

"My…" He began, "I don't think I've ever seen such red cheeks." Joly spoke up from where he was staring out the window,

"He's ill, Jehan, I'd stay away, if I were you." Enjolras fixed Joly with a glare, Joly shrinking backward,

"Merely a cold," Enjolras said, Joly shaking his head, but not objecting. "Where's Grantaire, is he skipping… Again?" Enjolras asked, after scanning the room. Bossuet, one of Grantaire's best friends, next to Joly, shrugged, and Grantaire picked that moment to enter the room, not seeming that drunk, for once. Enjolras gave him a short nod, "alright, where shall we begin?"

"...With the fact that you look like you're about to topple over?" Bahorel bluntly suggested, Feuilly kicking his heel, "ow!" Enjolras waved a hand in the air,

"I am fine." Gavroche clambered in through the window, somehow,

"Hiya!" He greeted, everyone saying a quick greeting in return, bar Enjolras, who didn't notice, and Jehan, who also didn't notice, both for very different reasons. Enjolras, because he had turned his head to cough, and Jehan, because he was already immersed in some paper. Grantaire raised an eyebrow from where he was sitting, with Joly, Bossuet, and Courfeyrac,

"Revisiting Bahorel's point." Enjolras tensed at Grantaire's voice. Grantaire's voice was rough, when he was drunk, and Enjolras had never heard him when he wasn't. His voice was much more soft, and his emotions were on display through every word. His lips had a slight upward curve, and his eyes glinted teasingly. Enjolras shook his head, quelling the thoughts, and opening his mouth to reply, sneezing instead.

"Gross," Marius said, Feuilly kicking him as well. Enjolras and Combeferre were sitting at a table together, Joly, Bossuet, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire at the one to their right, and Jehan sitting at his own table, not even paying attention to what was going on. Feuilly was leaning against the wall, between Bahorel and Marius, who were doing the same, while Gavroche was perched on a windowsill, looking everything like a large cat.

"Anyways," Enjolras said, "we have other much more important things to go over. Reports?" Enjolras did his best not to zone out, as each member went through their reports, and found himself rubbing his temples as it came to Marius's turn.

"Oh… Right, I was supposed to like, distribute the papers… Huh… Well, anyways, I found an interesting flock of birds, I named the leader bird Marvin. Hah, Marvin's kinda like you, Enjolras! He had yellow on his head, but I think someone just dropped batter on him or something… Anyways, so the birds -"

"Marius…" Enjolras tried, Marius obliviously continuing to talk,

"They had a variety of colors, I think one was pink… Wait, no, it just had a pink handkerchief stuck on its head… Another one was drinking from a wine bottle… Can birds get drunk?!"

"Marius-" Enjolras came in again.

" - If R was a bird, he'd be drunk all the time! I did give my papers to the birds, though, they just ate them. I think Marvin -"

"MARIUS!" Enjolras shouted, slamming his hands down on the table. Everyone was silent, for a second, and Enjolras panted.

"What?" Marius asked, a growl rumbling in Enjolras' throat, Combeferre quickly jumping in,

"Please at least attempt to stay on topic…" Marius shrugged,

"Okay! Long story short, um, I don't think I met anyone who wanted to join our cause."

"Jesus christ," Joly said, encapsulating Enjolras's thoughts exactly. Enjolras could feel his friends staring at him. Even though he was known to get frustrated, quite a bit, he could usually restrain himself from shouting at the others, even when he was very annoyed. Like with Grantaire, most of the time. Enjolras had actually gotten into a fistfight once, with Grantaire, and as Enjolras had been the one to throw the first punch, Combeferre had no sympathy towards the resulting black eye and broken ribs, though he had cared for Enjolras then, as always. Grantaire wasn't particularly tall, perhaps around 5'8, or 5'9, however when compared to Enjolras's mere 5'2, a glaring reminder that he was female-born, Grantaire was a huge, unbeatable opponent. Enjolras cleared his throat,

"No speech tonight… Just talk among yourselves… Preferably about something useful." Combeferre tugged on Enjolras's shirt sleeve,

"You should go," he said, Enjolras shaking his head,

"No." His voice sounded even worse than he had thought it had. Combeferre sighed, as Joly made his way over again, feeling Enjolras's forehead,

"Home. Bed," Joly demanded, Enjolras shaking his head once more,

"Joly, I'm alright." His arguments were no use, however, and Combeferre had soon tugged him up to his feet, Joly walking over to Courfeyrac, pulling him aside from Bossuet, Joly, and Grantaire. Courfeyrac nodded at whatever Joly had said, hurrying over to Enjolras's side,

"Well," he said to the rest of the Les Amis, "we shall be off now! What with our dying chief and all."

"M'not dying," Enjolras protested, Courfeyrac shrugging in response, as Combeferre pulled Enjolras out of the room, closing the door behind him. Enjolras scowled at him, Combeferre giving him a gentle look.

"Enjolras come now, let's get you home, some sleep will do you good," he gently urged, Enjolras too tired to argue anymore, shivering, as they stepped outside. The warm weight of Combeferre's coat was now welcome, as they pushed their way through the streets, Enjolras freezing, as they entered his apartment building. The dreaded staircase stared at him dauntingly, and Enjolras looked up it, swallowing slightly, his cold toes wiggling inside of his shoes. Courfeyrac exchanged glances with Combeferre, before Combeferre lifted Enjolras into his arms, Enjolras asleep the second Combeferre's foot touched the fourth step.

He woke up with a jolt, six hours later, in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat. He sat up in bed. It was dark outside, he could tell, as there was no light shining through the windows. "Maman?" He whispered, without thinking about it, before slipping out of bed. He was no longer in proper clothes, someone had taken off most of them. Combeferre and Courfeyrac had deposited him in bed, of course, but they weren't in his bedroom. Enjolras stumbled outside of his bedroom, not seeing his friends anywhere. Had they just left him alone? He was about to call out for them, before his knees buckled, and the world when black. He wasn't sure how long it was like that, only that sometime later, he was being shaken awake.

"Enjolras?! Enjolras?! SHIT." His eyes didn't open, but he was awake. He felt a rough, warm hand against his face, and forced one eye to open seeing… Grantaire, staring back at him? "Oh, thank god, thank god, you're awake." Enjolras felt like he was underwater, and Grantaire's voice was muffled.

"... Are you drunk?" Enjolras managed to get out, concerned. Grantaire let out a bitter laugh, before lifting Enjolras up, laying him down on his bed, once he had entered his room, and opening a window, letting out a sigh of relief,

"GAV! Get Joly and Combeferre!" Enjolras tiredly rubbed at his eyes, which had started to droop already, and after a minute or two, he felt something cool smoothed down on his forehead, Grantaire looking anxious in every way.

"R… What?" Enjolras asked, Grantaire laughing once again,

"God, Apollo, jesus christ." Enjolras didn't know how to respond to that, and instead fell back asleep, waking up to a burning sensation in his chest, and Courfeyrac's arms wrapped around him.

"Courf?" Enjolras tiredly asked, Courfeyrac beaming, and dropping him onto the bed,

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to wake up?!" Enjolras winced, at how loud Courfeyrac was talking, turning his attention to Combeferre, who was sitting at his desk chair, bent over a few papers.

"What?" Combeferre turned around, giving him a tight smile, shadows under his brown eyes,

"Hello, welcome back." Enjolras blinked,

"Back from what?" Combeferre sighed,

"You haven't exactly been… Lucid for a few days, Grantaire found you on the floor."

"...Why was Grantaire in here?" Combeferre gave him an indiscernible look, Courfeyrac kicking his feet, and humming, not paying attention to the conversation,

"He was coming to bring you something to eat from Musichetta. Bossuet couldn't deliver it, because he broke his leg, I believe, or sprained it. Either way, he couldn't. Joly had classes. So Grantaire was the next person in line. Anyways, he found you on the floor, and sent Gavroche for Joly and I, and Courfeyrac and I have been with you since," Combeferre said with a shrug. Courfeyrac nodded, zoning back in,

"Mhm!" He gripped back onto Enjolras, Enjolras melting into his touch,

"I was unconscious the entire time?" He asked, perplexed, Combeferre biting his lip,

"Um… No. Just not exactly, lucid when you were awake." Courfeyrac giggled, Combeferre giving him a glare, "you promised you wouldn't tease." Courfeyrac shut up, Combeferre standing, and sitting on the bedside, the bed creaking under the weight of the three men. Enjolras gave him a horrified look,

"I-I didn't say anything bad, did I?!"

"Enjolras," Combeferre gently said, laying a hand down on his stomach, "if you miss your family, you can always come to us." Enjolras swallowed heavily, breaking into a coughing fit, replying once he had caught his breath,

"I-I don't miss my family," he whispered, "they're horrible people." The three friends were silent, and Courfeyrac detached from Enjolras, opening the window next to the bed, and letting in surprisingly warm air.

"It will be spring soon!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, "no more deadly nights, and runny noses, and annoying snow, and Bossuet injuring himself on ice!"

"You love the snow, Courfeyrac," Combeferre said, Courfeyrac huffing, and rolling his eyes, nearly falling backward out of the window,

"Well, yeah, but not when it's up to my knees! Then it's just cold. And people give me kinda weird looks for playing in it…" Enjolras chuckled slightly. Courfeyrac was prone to forgetting the fact that he was a grown man, instead opting to act like a child. It was one of his endearing qualities.

"Bossuet will find a way to injure himself, no matter what season it is," Combeferre pointed out as well, taking the cloth that was draped across Enjolras's forehead, and rewetting it, "you're still not out of the woods," he murmured, Enjolras sighing, and coughing violently into his fist, Combeferre frowning at the sound, and Courfeyrac returning to the bed, to hold Enjolras once more.

"Your rooms must be lonely," Courfeyrac softly said, Enjolras shrugging. Half of him wanted to lie, and say that he didn't get lonely. But the other half of him knew his best friends would see right through it. Courfeyrac suddenly began wildly waving his hands, "ooh, ooh!" He exclaimed excitedly, placing Enjolras down on the bed, and jumping up and down.

"...Yes?" Combeferre hesitantly asked, Courfeyrac grinning,

"Ideeeea!" Enjolras blinked, leaning forward, and sneezing, Combeferre rubbing his back. "So, E gets lonely, which is very sweet, by the way, right?"

"I'm not that lonely," Enjolras protested, Courfeyrac shushing him. Courfeyrac was the only person who could shush Enjolras and not earn a kick in the shin in response.

"But you are lonely! You just admitted it," Courfeyrac stuck out his tongue, Combeferre leaning across Enjolras, and smacking Courfeyrac upside the head for the childish motion. "Anyways, so, R just got kicked out of his apartment for… Reasons, and you have a lot of space here, and want a friend with you because you're really just a big softie on the inside…"

"I am not a softie," Enjolras said, Courfeyrac ignoring him, "and that's a terrible idea. I don't want to share my space with a drunk, and besides we argue all the time."

"Okay, first off, R's been cutting back, which you'd know if you paid attention, secondly, you'll figure out a way to make it work! Sooooo, what do you think?!"

"No," Enjolras immediately said, Combeferre frowning,

"It could be a good idea, if only for a week or so. R needs a place to stay until he can find new living quarters… And you're too ill to be left on your own… Courfeyrac and I have class…" Combeferre seemed to consider the idea, "...Of course, I don't know if I trust Grantaire with you, considering the fact that he well… Tends to have difficulty following simple instructions…"

"Ah, he loves E, I'm not even joking, Enjy will be in good hands!" Courfeyrac exclaimed. Enjolras cleared his throat,

"You going to ask my opinion on this at all?" He asked, "y'know, since it's my apartment."

"Alright, E, what do you think?" Courfeyrac said.

"I think it's a horrible idea."

"Two against one!" Courfeyrac declared.

"But it's my space!"

"Democracy," Combeferre replied.

"Socialism," Courfeyrac added, flopping out onto the bed, nearly landing on top of Enjolras, who let out a squeak. Combeferre lifted Courfeyrac up with one hand, giving him a look. Enjolras glared at both of them, before lifting up his hands, swallowing a cough,

"... It appears I'm outnumbered," he mumbled, Courfeyrac beaming,

"Great! I'll go tell R!" He launched himself out of the room, Enjolras giving Combeferre a frightened look. Combeferre smiled, leaning forward, and pressing a kiss to Enjolras's cheek,

"You'll be just fine." Enjolras sighed, burying himself in the covers,

"I hate you."

"Love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short thing, but now it's multichaptered. Anyways, feel free to let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment!


	2. In which Grantaire agrees to Courfeyrac's idea

All in all, this was not how Grantaire had seen his day panning out. It had just been an average enough morning, he supposed. Or, as average as his mornings ever got. He was slightly anxious, of course, in light of the fact that his fearless Apollo had taken ill like a mere mortal, that Grantaire was certain he wasn't, but other than that, the morning came with his usual levels of self-loathing and depression. He had been staying at Joly and Bossuet's place, for a few days, and though the situation wasn't ideal, mainly due to the issue of space, Joly and Bossuet didn't seem to mind.

"Say, Grantaire," Joly had said, as he had left his room (a closet) that morning, "I expect you're anxious over our fearless leader's condition, hm?" Grantaire frowned, sitting down at the table, next to Bossuet, who had fallen backward in his chair, somehow, and was in the process of scrambling to his feet.

"Yes, why?" Grantaire cautiously asked, longing for a drink. Joly smiled,

"Just went to check on him. He's not exactly lucid yet, but he's doing much better. Nothing to worry about," Joly reassured him, Grantaire smiling,

"Good." The rest of the morning had passed in a blur, Grantaire attending his usual classes, before going down to the Musain. Feuilly had caught him before he could walk through the door, Grantaire raising an eyebrow, "are you leading the meeting today?" Feuilly sighed,

"No," he said, pressing a hand to his mouth, looking rather worried.

"Then… Who?" Grantaire asked, Feuilly sighing, and pointing, as Marius entered the Musain.

"Marius?!" Grantaire exclaimed, "Even I could lead a meeting better than Marius!" Feuilly looked up at the sky, as a few birds flew overhead, perhaps remembering Marius's last tangent on birds,

"Courfeyrac said it would be a 'good experience for him,' or something of the sort."

"Why not Combeferre, or Courfeyrac?" Grantaire asked, leaning against the outside wall of the Musain. He wished Courfeyrac had never convinced Marius to retry the Les Amis. Feuilly tore his gaze away from the birds, running a hand through his own messy brown curls,

"Oh. They're with Enjolras," he said.

"Then why not you?"

"Again, something about experience," Feuilly replied, before running over to greet Bahorel, who had just arrived. Grantaire made his way into the Musain, sitting down next to Joly and Bossuet, who had set out for the Musain earlier than him. Gavroche was perched in the window, as he seemed to be quite a bit, purring, as Grantaire pat his head. It was probably a weird kid-phase thing, Grantaire hoped. He spent the next two hours, trying not to fall asleep, and Marius rambled on, and on, frequently bringing things up that enraged the other members of the group, nearly causing a fistfight once, before going back into his rambling. Grantaire couldn't really care less what Marius was saying. He just wanted it to be over. Finally, Marius let them go, and Grantaire hurried out of the Musain. He had job-searching, to do, if he ever planned on getting a place of his own again. It was on the walk to Joly and Bossuet's, that he had spied a familiar fast-moving hat in a sea of heads, as Courfeyrac rushed toward him, panting, but smiling nonetheless. Grantaire blinked at him,

"...Yes, Courfeyrac?" He asked, Courfeyrac taking a few seconds to catch his breath,

"I… Really… Need… To… Exercise… More…" Courfeyrac gasped out, nearly collapsing, before jumping up into full posture, "anyways! Guess what?!"

"What?" Grantaire said boredly, looking longingly at the street behind Courfeyrac. He just wanted to get back to Joly and Bossuet's.

"So um, y'know how E's really sick?" Courfeyrac asked, Grantaire frowning,

"He's not any worse, is he? He's going to get better, right?!" Courfeyrac nodded,

"Uh-huh. Though I must say, that concerned look on your face at that was very adorable." Grantaire had to use all of his willpower to not strangle Courfeyrac. "So, you need somewhere to stay, right?" Grantaire nodded,

"Yes, I hope to be out of Joly and Bossuet's hair soon." Courfeyrac frowned,

"Might not be the best way to express that, considering the fact that Bossuet's bald, but, okay!" Grantaire rolled his eyes,

"The point, Courfeyrac?" Courfeyrac nodded, bouncing slightly, before speaking again,

"You be interested in rooming with Enjolras for a bit?" Grantaire paled. Courfeyrac had to be joking. But it was very obvious Courfeyrac, who wore his heart on his sleeve, wasn't.

"I, um, d-did Enjolras agree to this?"

"Yes!" Courfeyrac said. Grantaire had actually gone to Enjolras's apartment a few days earlier, to deliver food, only to find the blonde collapsed on the floor. He had sent Gavroche out for Combeferre and Joly, and left the second they arrived. That had actually been slightly scary. He had also been to his apartment when he had tipped off Courfeyrac and Combeferre about the fact that Enjolras was missing. "Y'wanna go see him right now, talk things over?" Courfeyrac asked, Grantaire shrugging, and Courfeyrac took this as enough of a yes, grabbing his arm, and dragging him all the way to Enjolras's living space. Courfeyrac threw open the front door, closing it behind him, and made his way to Enjolras's bedroom, still dragging Grantaire with him. Grantaire blinked, as he looked around the room. Enjolras was laying in a large bed, barely taking up any of it, as he was curled in on himself under the blankets, while Combeferre wiped at his forehead with a wet cloth. The wetness of both sweat, and the cloth, caused Enjolras's golden curls to stick to his forehead. Grantaire could see that Enjolras was trembling. Courfeyrac stepped forward, sitting on the edge of the bed with Combeferre. "Ennnnjy, guess who?!" Enjolras uncurled from his ball, giving Courfeyrac a tired, but warm look,

"My most irksome friend?" Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, before giving Combeferre a concerned look,

"I've only been gone an hour, has he gotten worse already?" He asked, lowering his previous vocal volume. Combeferre ran a hand through his hair, using his other hand to readjust his glasses, after laying the cloth down on the bed.

"His temperature's just risen." Courfeyrac nodded, as Combeferre retrieved the cloth from the bed, firmly smoothing it over Enjolras's forehead, after getting the man to uncurl and lay down on his back, rather than his side. Enjolras let out a few pathetic sniffles, and Combeferre handed him a handkerchief. It was then Enjolras finally noticed Grantaire, and he quickly tried to push himself up into a sitting position, weak enough that Courfeyrac, who was about as strong as a mouse, and as tiny as one too, his friends liked to joke, easily held him down. Even Enjolras was taller than Courfeyrac, and Enjolras was female-born. The smallest in the group was actually Jehan, however. Grantaire could still remember when he had learned that Enjolras was female-born. It had quite a shock. He had been going to Enjolras's apartment after they had been cooling down from a rather intense fight. Despite what the others thought, Grantaire and Enjolras didn't usually fight. They squabbled, sure, but only for a few minutes, before Enjolras decided that Grantaire wasn't worth his time, and moved on. Grantaire had felt bad about it, and had gone to apologize. He had entered through the front door without knocking, as Enjolras hadn't locked it, to find Enjolras sitting on the floor, while Joly knelt beside him, lecturing him about binding too much. Enjolras had been lacking a shirt, then. And binding. It had been quite clear to Grantaire what was going on, as Enjolras, who had been holding a hand to his back, a grimace of pain on his face, spotted him, and screamed for him to get out. By then, the damage had been done, though, and Enjolras had explained his situation to the Les Amis who hadn't known already at the next meeting, Grantaire red-faced the entire time.

"G-greetings Grantaire," Enjolras said, through chattering teeth, Combeferre giving him a firm look,

"Don't exhaust yourself, Enjolras." He received a glare in response,

"Talking isn't going to exhaust me. Anyways, Grantaire, I'm sure you've heard of the arrangement my rather… Creative friend, has come up with." Grantaire gave Enjolras a short nod, Enjolras giving him a tight smile in response. "Care to discuss that arrangement?" Grantaire nodded again, Courfeyrac crawling forward on the bed, until he could cuddle next to Enjolras, pulling the man to his chest. Enjolras didn't seem to think twice about this, and neither did Grantaire, really. Courfeyrac was simply a physical person with everyone, even strangers. He was the type of guy who would sling his arm around you in the middle of a conversation, no matter who you were. Courfeyrac didn't discriminate when it came to sharing his overwhelming affection for everything with four or fewer legs. Courfeyrac was not fond of centipedes, spiders, and the sort. However, he was quick to pet the dirty, flea-ridden dogs that roamed the streets, that nobody else would go near. He would most certainly take a kitten out of the rain, and into his home. And that was why he had sixteen cats and dogs that regularly hung out around his apartment building.

"What exactly is the agreement?" Grantaire enquired, Combeferre standing from his position on the bedside, probably to track down something to eat, feeling safe leaving Enjolras in Courfeyrac's watch, for the time being. Enjolras yawned into his fist, blinking heavily a few times, before yawning again, and speaking,

"You need a place to stay, and I have space. You are permitted to stay here for a month at most, so long as you are actively helping out, and trying to find a place of your own," Enjolras said, Grantaire nodding, not sure what to say in response. Combeferre walked back into the room, setting down a cup of something on Enjolras's nightstand,

"As for watching over him…" Enjolras let out a small groan, Courfeyrac shushing him like a mother would her fussing infant. "It'll only be for a week or so… I have a handbook I made…" Combeferre passed over a messy pile of papers to Grantaire, Grantaire reading the title page,

"The Care and Keeping of One Revolutionary Idiot…" Courfeyrac grinned,

"I came up with that!"

"Of course," Grantaire said, Combeferre nodding,

"Courfeyrac and I will be by as often as possible, as we are anyways… We'll help you move your stuff." Enjolras began coughing, a horrible, hacking sound, and Combeferre quickly lifted him up into a position that was easier to breathe from, Courfeyrac whispering soothing words in his friend's ear. Grantaire was simply frozen, and he knew then and there how doomed he was. Enjolras despised him, for one, and only tolerated having Grantaire there so that his friends could get to classes. And Grantaire would do a shitty job of looking after him. He wasn't knowledgeable or blessed with a calming presence, like Combeferre, and he certainly wasn't sweet, and caring, like Courfeyrac. He was getting out of Joly and Bossuet's hair, only to get tangled into Enjolras's. And as an adult. He was basically a loser. There was no time to dwell on this, as Courfeyrac addressed Grantaire,

"You'll move in tomorrow, sound fine?" He asked,

"Sure," Grantaire replied. And that was that, he supposed. "I ought to go, and tell Joly and Bossuet. They'll be wondering where I am." Grantaire said, Courfeyrac waving at him, while Combeferre gave him a quiet,

"Goodbye." Enjolras didn't acknowledge him, as he left the room, and eventually the apartment building, making his way to Joly and Bossuet's in about twenty or so minutes. Bossuet rushed up to greet him the second he stepped foot into the apartment, accidentally sliding forward, Grantaire stopping him from slamming into the door with a hand. Joly was sitting in the corner, with Bahorel, who was bleeding profusely from his head, Joly pressing a cloth to the wound.

"Jesus, Bahorel, what happened?!" Grantaire exclaimed, Bahorel shrugging,

"Got into a bit of a brawl, as usual," Bahorel grinned, showing his teeth, "you think I look bad, you should see the other guy!" He flexed his arm, proudly displaying his muscles, Grantaire doing the same. "Wow, R, I oughta start bringing you to my fights," Bahorel said, Joly looking furious at the very idea,

"Absolutely not!" Bahorel gave Joly an amused look,

"You're just averse to the idea because you're jealous, stick-arms." Joly crossed his arms,

"I do not have stick-arms!" Bahorel patted Joly's shoulder,

"Eh, it's alright to have stick-arms. You've got brains to make up for it, and plenty of muscular guys around to protect you." Bahorel assured him, "like R and I. And Bossuet." Bossuet picked that moment to fall head first onto the table in the corner of the room, all four men, even Bossuet, laughing wildly. "Well, I'm off, thanks for your help, Joly," Bahorel said, smirking at Bossuet, and nodding at Grantaire, before leaving. Now that Bahorel was gone, Joly turned to Grantaire, while Bossuet, who had been banned from even attempting to sit in chairs, due to an incident that had happened last Tuesday, stood against the wall.

"Grantaire, why were you so late?" Joly asked, Grantaire smiling, running a hand through his black curls,

"I actually have a new temporary living arrangement."

"Say, that's wonderful, R!" Bossuet said, before immediately falling down, "I'm okay!"

"There's a slight complication to the thing… It's uh, at Enjolras's place." Joly's eyes widened, and he fell out of his chair, for once, Bossuet quickly lifting him up. Joly shook his head,

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you, you can't have just said that you're staying with Enjolras?!" Grantaire nodded,

"Um, actually, yeah."

"You're joking!" Bossuet yelled, Grantaire shaking his head,

"Nope."

"Well," Joly said, clearing his throat, as Grantaire looked down at the papers Combeferre had given to him,

"It's just one person, and it's just for a week!" He exclaimed, "why would I need this much instruction?!" Joly shrugged,

"Well, Enjolras can be a rather difficult person."

"And Combeferre can be a rather thorough person." Bossuet pointed out, Grantaire nodding,

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Bossuet placed a hand on Grantaire's shoulder, before pulling Grantaire into a hug, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

"Oh, we'll miss you so," Bossuet said emotionally, Joly walking over,

"We will, R," he confirmed, giving Grantaire a smile, "now, let's enjoy the rest of our day together, shall we?" Grantaire smiled,

"Hell, yeah."

* * *

"I hate you, Courf."

"It won't be that bad, Enjy!" Enjolras shoved his head underneath his pillow,

"Grantaire… Here?! We can barely get through three-hour meetings, how're we supposed to live together?!" Combeferre placed a comforting hand on his chest, which Enjolras had rebinded, sick of having it unbinded.

"It's only for a week to a month. Besides, you're ill, you should be too tired to argue most of the time." Enjolras sighed, pulling the pillow off of his face, and looking up at the faces of his two best friends.

"I have so much Les Amis work to make up… And classwork, god…" Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, getting into bed with Enjolras, as he often did, kissing Enjolras's cheek, after Enjolras sneezed into his pillow, Combeferre wrinkling his nose, probably reminding himself to do something about that later.

"Relax, E, Ferre and I have got the Les Amis work handled." Courfeyrac said, Combeferre coming in,

"And I can do your schoolwork." Enjolras shook his head,

"I'll figure it out," he tiredly said, before smiling at Combeferre and Courfeyrac, "I think I wouldn't mind dying with you," he blurted out, Combeferre laughing,

"Bit early to think about that," he said, Courfeyrac coming in,

"Maybe we'll all survive to be grumpy old men together!" They all laughed at the thought, before Enjolras's eyes drooped, and he quickly drifted off to sleep, greatly appreciating Courfeyrac's cuddling, and Combeferre's soft, soothing voice. He knew he'd found the right friends. Friends who would stick by his side no matter what. Friends who would follow him into a revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than intended, but also has a shorter point, the next chapter should be longer.
> 
> Thanks for reading :D!


End file.
